Not Just Kids
by cloudyailin
Summary: The boys have plenty of issues to deal with during their teenage years. The challenges that they face with the supernatural and with each other will shape their decisions and actions in the future.
1. Chapter 1

_June 5, 1997_

Dean walked out of the bathroom and towards the tiny nook that his brother was curled up in under the empty hangers. It was the last week before summer break from school and they were already holed up in another motel while their father was out hunting. The previous week, John had let the apartment go in preparation for their summer traveling. Neither of the boys were surprised; they were completely used to the fact that all year long their father would be out hunting anything supernatural that he could, and during the summer he would take the boys along.

Their participation ranged widely depending on what they were hunting. Dean was allowed to do far more, and not just because he had four years on his brother. Dean had begun learning his skills at a much younger age than Sam had. He was taught to protect his brother first, and that only meant learning all the skills that his father used for hunting. That he was allowed to occasionally hunt by his father's side was just a benefit.

When Dean was six and a half his father had first begun teaching him everything there was to know about weapons. He could shoot better than any of the boys they met at the few hunting camps John took them to. Without Mary's guidance, all John knew to do was teach them what he knew. He tried to turn them into as close to himself as he could manage. So he had thought his sons needed to know early on what it was like to actually hunt and kill something.

Dean had nearly begged their father to let him come along on this current hunt, but if it wasn't safe enough to bring Sam in the car, usually that was a no. Sam had to be taken care of, that Dean understood whole-heartedly, but sometimes he thought his father saw Sam as a little less mature than the kid actually was. If Dean left Sam to his own defenses, he knew things would go smoothly. Sam knew how to find food, a place to stay, and keep himself taken care of. Hell, the kid would go to school on his own without any encouragement at all.

Dean could practically see his baby brother setting the alarm, waking up, changing, packing his backpack, going next door to the restaurant for breakfast, and hopping on the city bus to take him to school. It wasn't even a stretch. Sam was too smart for his own good sometimes.

While Dean was musing over such things, he looked down at the boy who was hunched over a sketch pad. Sammy wasn't a half-bad artist, but this was his 'studying' for art class. Dean couldn't imagine actually studying by drawing.

Sam ignored his older brother who stood there silently for a few moments before running ran a hand through his hair again. It was always a toss-up in Dean's mind about what to do: stay and take care of Sammy, or go out and have some fun. But it had been too long since Dean had a real break. "Hey, Sammy, where do you want to go tonight?"

Now Sam looked up, his face instantly in that bewildered look that he did so well. "What? Dean, I've got school in the morning."

"I'm not leaving you here alone."

"Why? Where are you going?" Sam folded the sketch book closed to stretch out his legs but he didn't get up. Dean guessed that he hadn't given a logical enough reason yet.

"To hang out with some people."

As Sam's mouth opened again, Dean wondered why he still thought that he could get away with simple answers. "Doesn't Dad usually say . . ."

"Dad's not here. And I've got to get out for a bit. Move around, keep in shape. You know, be ready for a hunt." Dean gave an easy grin that would have worked on even his father. "It's just for a few hours, Sammy."

The thirteen-year-old just frowned. "Don't call me that."

Dean sighed. "Stop being so serious all the time!" He gave his brother a light kick in the leg with his foot. "Lighten up. Have a little fun. You wanna see a movie? Or two? How about something scary?"

"I don't like horror movies," Sam said flatly to the suggestion.

"Oh, I forgot, you don't like being scared," Dean replied, his voice almost taunting. It was a common enough go-around between the brothers.

Sam got up and walked around Dean to put his sketch book and pencils away in the backpack on the bed. "I know you think of horror movies as your comedy, Dean. But I figure there's enough scary stuff in life."

It was a good thing Dean couldn't really lose his temper when it came to his little brother. He was usually exasperated as all hell, but the kid was little, and Dean never let himself get too far. "Jesus Christ, Sammy. Stop acting like you're thirty-five. I'm going to a party, okay? And you're going to some public place where you won't be alone."

Sam didn't look like he was going to even argue with the order. When Dean was in a mood, he had to do something. Sam wasn't going to stop him. Sam wouldn't even tell their father until it was absolutely dire. "Where do you want to go? Arcade? The library?" Dean only sneered slightly as he asked, just enough to hide how proud he was of his younger brother for being so smart.

"Fine," Sam answered.

"Fine, what?"

"The library. I can find something to do."

Dean only had to go two minutes out of his way to drop his brother off at the library. It was on the edge of a college campus and even though classes at the campus were already over for the semester it still stayed open until 2 a.m. every night. "I'll come in and find you at one-thirty, alright? Don't get in trouble."

"I won't." Sam grabbed his bag and climbed out of the Impala.

"Hey," Dean called before Sam could shut the door. Sam turned and Dean held out a wad of one dollar bills. "I heard they've got vending machines and a cafeteria in there in case you want anything. And don't you leave this building, you hear?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, appearing slightly more cheerful now that he had money to stuff in his pocket. He pulled his backpack on and walked up the wide front stairs, Dean waiting behind in the street until Sam was inside.

0000000

Dean smiled with satisfaction as three girls walked by slowly in front of his car. If Dean knew one thing, it was that his kind of girls always had a thing for a guy who drove a nice car. That was a simple requirement. After they had passed with more than a share of admiring glances at the newly polished Impala, Dean revved it and slid smoothly to a park in front of the Victorian where the party was being held.

The smile didn't leave his face as he stepped out and heard the crashing bass from speakers inside. Through the near-nonexistent sheer curtains in the front Dean could make out figures with pool cues and plenty of dancing bodies all around. _Perfect_. There might be a chance for money, showing off for the ladies, and even some time with the ladies themselves.

Dean let himself in the front door and then held open the door for the three teenage girls who had been gawking at his car earlier. They giggled as he watched them walk past, and he knew they loved it. He was only a few steps inside when he was set upon.

"Becky!" He grinned down at the high school senior whose red-streaked black hair brushed against his hand when she leaned tipsily into him.

"Hey, Dean," she crooned. "You're late." She put on a fake pout that he charmed away with another grin at her.

"I know. Had to drop my brother off." He reached around her waist and snagged the red plastic cup in her hand. The smell of vodka hit his nose before the cup even made it to his lips. He chugged what was left in the cup down in an instant.

Becky took the cup from him and tossed it at the pile forming in the center of the living room where the couches and chairs had been pushed against the walls. "We'll have to go find some more."

"Guess so."


	2. Chapter 2

It was exactly one-thirty when Dean kicked lightly at Sam's leg to wake him up. The younger boy was lying back in a bean bag with a book draped over his chest and another to the left lying in his languid, outstretched hand. "It's not exactly a public place if you find the deepest, darkest corner to hide away in, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he muttered irritably. "And everywhere else the college kids were being loud. Besides, the place is haunted anyway."

"Really?" Dean asked with a touch of interest but not actually believing his brother. "What makes you say that?"

"Go look." Sam led Dean over to the edge of the balcony that overlooked the lowest level of the library. It wasn't lit, the bottom level was closed off and only used for storage.

"What am I looking for?" Dean asked, his voice quieter now that his guts told him something was up. He peered down through the shelves just a yard below his feet.

"There." Sam pointed to the distant wall and Dean looked only to find an elderly woman in a chair.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's just some librarian reading, Sammy."

Sam raised his eyebrows as his irritable older brother walked away from the balcony. "Why don't you ever just believe me, Dean?" Sam pulled his backpack over both shoulders and then quickly swung a leg over the rail on the edge of the balcony.

"Sam!" Dean hissed frantically as he hurried back to where he had been standing. Sam lowered himself down the wrought iron balustrade, his feet dangling down towards the top of the shelves. Dean bent over and grabbed onto Sam's wrist. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just come on," Sam said.

"Get back up here right now, Sammy!"

"It's Sam! And let go, you're gonna make me fall."

"I'll pull you back up."

"I'll let go," Sam threatened. Dean didn't want to chance the fact that he would. He released Sam's arm and watched his brother lower himself until his feet were just inches above the top of the shelf. He dropped lightly down and then looked up at Dean. "Come on."

Dean bit his lip hesitantly. They should really get back to the motel. He didn't know when Dad would be back. Sometimes he came back early. The library was going to close very soon. He didn't want his brother chasing around the bottom of the library after some librarian. Dean was too tired to be gettig into trouble. His mind wasn't the clearest it had ever been.

Sam began climbing down the shelves and forced Dean to make a choice. If they were going to get into trouble, it might as well be together. Sam might not be able to bail himself out.

Dean carefully pulled himself over the railing and then dropped to the shelf. Pretty damn graceful too. He looked down to find his brother waiting. He went quickly.

"This way." Sam crept through the shelves, plenty of them in disrepair, the few books down here dusty and mostly leatherbound. Dean kept himself turned sideways, watching their backs and following Sam closely. They made a good team.

"Watch out," Sam whispered suddenly. Dean turned and tripped and fell over a folding chair that was lying on the floor. He hit it with a loud clatter and a thud that rang throughout the room. Sam closed his eyes in what appeared to be exasperation. "I said to watch out," Sam grated as Dean picked himself up. "Idiot."

"Moron."

"Loser."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean suddenly felt a cold breeze that prevented him from retaliating. Sam looked at him pointedly. "Cold spot."

"It's just an open door somewhere," Dean replied, still unwilling to believe that they had just stumbled onto a ghost.

Sam gave him a incredulous look that said he was showing his stupidity. "We're in a _basement_. This way."

Once again, Dean followed, this time watching more carefully where he was going. "This is ridiculous."

"I hope you're not wimping out because you're scared," Sam whispered. "Because that would be very disappointing."

"And we don't want to disappoint little Sammy now, do we?" Dean muttered sarcastically. "I doubt this is a spook but if it is we'll find out and toast it anyway, so we don't really need to be wandering around down here just to catch sight of it."

"Yes, we do."

"You are--" Dean suddenly stopped when he saw the semi-transparent elderly librarian woman standing there in clothes that were far too many years out of date. Then he heard a creak from the bookshelf to the right of them. The instant he realized it was rocking and going to fall right on top of them, he grabbed Sam around the waist and hauled him around, pushing him forward in the direction of the nearest safe spot. "Go!" he shouted, running after Sam who immediately took off.

A book flew off a shelf to hit Dean in the face as he ran, and he swerved, ducking others, and looking ahead to see Sam tackling the same problem though the backpack helped block most of it. They reached the shelf below the balcony and Sam immediately threw himself up the shelves, climbing as fast as his arms and legs could move. Dean followed seconds later, staying behind his brother and twice boosting him up to go faster. Books came off shelves below them and flew up where Dean tried to bat them away.

The higher they got, the less the attacks came. As they reached the top shelf all was still save for a slight tremor of the shelf beneath their feet. "Go, Sammy" Dean still ordered, cupping his hands to give Sam a step up to the bars of the balcony. When Sam had swung his leg over, Dean grabbed on and hauled himself up purely on upper body strength.

The second they were both on flat footing, Dean slowed down, but motioned Sam to head back up to the main level of the library. He kept close behind, not even giving them a moment to catch their breath. The adrenaline still coursed through his body, and he knew it wouldn't cease until he had Sam back at the motel and had put salt at all the windows and doors.

They hurried their way out to the front doors, ignoring the glances that the few remaining patrons and librarians gave them. Dean had parked the Impala at the curb and hurried around to the driver's side while Sam piled in and buckled up. Dean didn't bother as he started the engine and threw the car into drive, letting just a little rubber burn as he sped away.

It was a few minutes later as Dean was pushing forty on a residential street when Sam pointed out, "It's not following us."

"And?!" Dean demanded, only slowing down a little as they came to a light which quickly turned green on their coasting approach.

Sam looked at his brother's clenched jaw, and he worried just a little. He understood that it had been too close a call. "We'll have to tell Dad when he gets back," was all he said.

"Whatever."

Dean grabbed the box of salt he kept beside the driver's seat in the Impala and made a line of it at the front door while he ushered Sam inside and ordered him into bed. Sam threw him a disgruntled look but still didn't comment on Dean's mood. Sam was in a pair of boxers and an old, ripped shirt of Dean's that he always slept in when he stepped out of the bathroom to watch Dean check the salt at the windows. It was something Dean did every night whenever they had occasion to put out salt.

Sam was brushing his teeth when he heard the door open and he caught sight of Dean slipping out. Less than a minute later he was back and checking the salt line again. Sam finished up and crawled into bed without looking at Dean. When he heard the loud click from the corner he did take a peek to see Dean sitting in the armchair, checking the shotgun. Sam let out a little sigh, and closed his eyes, knowing Dean was going to be sitting there all night.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later when John returned from his latest hunting trip, Dean told him about the ghost that Sam had found in the library. Dean hadn't mentioned that Sam had been in the library alone at one in the morning, and so he hadn't received the chewing out from their father. Mentioning the ghost had brought up something else that Dean really didn't want started though.

"It's dangerous! It nearly killed us! It could easily hurt some innocent person. Just because we're kids doesn't mean we don't know what we're talking about." Sam argued with his father. Dean stood there on the sidelines, looking between them with his little frown and deliberately crossed arms. To look at him, the other two might think the soon-to-be argument was upsetting him, they never looked at him though. They always got so caught up when they did this.

Dean hated when Sam and Dad fought. Sam was smart when he fought too. He had a head for logic and reason that Dean rarely managed. Maybe Dad always had the last word, but Sam always made John look and feel like the bad guy in the end.

Dean always stepped out of the way during the loud, angry shouting matches that most disagreements escalated into. He didn't like it. Sometimes he could start yelling enough to stop the both of them. To make them look at him and realize what they were doing. They were both hurting him when they fought. That was what made Dean hurt the most. When they yelled like that, it made him think he was going to lose them. That they were ripping their fragile family apart and he was losing them both.

Even when he wasn't afraid of losing them, the fights bothered him. They paid so much attention to each other. In a way, it made Dean feel left out. It was like he didn't have opinions, the important thoughts that they did. He didn't matter as much, even though it was always a toss-up when he did feel a need to choose sides.

He never sided with either of them more than the other. It was all he could think of to do, not push away either of them. He needed to keep them a family any way that he could. Sometimes he felt Dad was right. That Sam expected too much from the man and questioned more than a good son should. That Dad deserved to be shown more respect for all his knowledge and the good things he'd done in his lifetime. Sam could be too rebellious. But other times, Dad was too hard on the kid. Sam was smart, and he should have a chance to do more things that normal kids did. Dad didn't give him enough credit either. He pushed Sam too much.

Dean wasn't brave enough to question Dad. Sam was the brave one, it seemed. And probably the smart one too. Dean never thought to question the things that Dad taught him. He took it all at face value and believed everything. He would never learn to be like Sam.


End file.
